


Stalemate

by Sonzaishinai



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Superman (Comics), Superman - All Media Types, Superman/Batman (Comics)
Genre: Alfred and Lois try to hook the two of em up, Almost slow burn? There's a lot of time skipping, Also his happiness is contagious, Angst, Bruce is a moody and pouty little ball of cuteness, But he deserves it, But when he gets sad it makes everyone sad, First Words tattooed soulmate AU, For now. - Freeform, I don't think I'll be writing anything explicit into this, I prewrote five chapters just so I could plan, IMPORTANT : THERE IS NO BATMAN HERE, Identity Porn, Im calling them the batfamily even though the bats dont exist here, Im wrote the first five chapters on Christmas eve to avoid the family, M/M, Maybe with a happy ending, Secret Identity, Soulmate AU, Superman is a real fucking dick initially, The batfam will fight anyone that hurts Bruce, The batfamily tries to help, The only problem with him is that his sad faces and pouting are too fucking cute, We just want Bruce to be happy, daily uploading hopefully, god I fucking hope its a happy ending, im so sorry my poor baby, wing(wo)man Lois Lane
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-09-27 02:15:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17153402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonzaishinai/pseuds/Sonzaishinai
Summary: This wasn't supposed to be how his meeting with his soulmate turned out.He'd been dreaming of it since he spent nights cuddled up between the beautifully beating hearts of his mother and father. Hoping to fast forward to the days where he could cuddle up in the warmth and safety of his beloved's arms following the death of his parents.This was nothing like how he'd thought it'd go. It was, for a moment, but then reality came crashing down on him.It wasn't supposed to hurt so much.But it did. It hurt a lot.[Soulmate AU where your soulmate's first words to you are tattooed onto your skin from birth. Also, psst. In case you don’t like reading bulky tags, this is a no batman au, so there’s several drastic changes. Enjoy.]





	1. Suffocating

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [What Did I Do To Deserve You?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11633877) by [Sam4265](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sam4265/pseuds/Sam4265). 



> Wrote this shit on Christmas eve to avoid the family, got first five chapters lined up for posting and I'll either post on the daily or every two days. Idk. I just hope I can actually finish this fic.
> 
> Sorry if you were expecting another addition to the music prompts. Soon after I posted Lifeline, I got caught up in schoolwork again. It wouldn't have been so bad if I didn't have two essays to write and then got shit on with sixteen requests for editing. I spent four consecutive days spending an hour and a half or more each essay following the six hours I spent on my own HW and I had three days where I only had two hours of sleep the day of and went to school having not gotten a wink of sleep if you don't count the naps.
> 
> Later, finals week came up and I was too busy to do jack shit. I mean, I had the nights I wasn't studying to do shit but I was caught up on other projects and I had no motivation to draw something for Rise Up because my dumb ass is too depressing. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy this series and I hope to fucking god I actually finish it. Personally, it's shit, haven't gotten to editing, don't have a solid plot, nada. I'll be surprised if it's actually written compelling enough to capture and retain your attention throughout all possible chapters. 
> 
> On a side note, i don't think I have the energy to edit. Dog went missing some time ago, been kinda depressed. Hope to find him soon.

^(OvO)^

 

The mingling scent of perfume and cologne drifted around him in the enclosed room, practically smothering him, the variations of sharp tangs and sickly sweet clinging tightly to his own suit.

 

By god, Bruce loathed functions and galas, but this specific one was dedicated to a charity for funding cancer research and he couldn’t bear to refuse. He’s seen the effects of his attendance before, after all. Masquerading around a room of poisonous tongues and naive optimism stung, but anything to help. He just had to endure a couple more hours of this socialite mingling and then he could leave.

 

From across the room, the sound of startled gasps and an increase in chatter ensued. Curiosity piqued, Bruce strode towards the notably denser gathering, cursing his short stature for barring him from getting a glance at what’s got everyone enraptured.

 

Soon enough, a small whisper of “Superman” wafted through the crowd and there was no longer a need to bustle through the gathering. Cleverly, he assessed that the man of steel’s appearance for the charity could benefit him. If he escaped now, no one would notice, and the effect of his presence may be unnecessary in that the Kryptonian will do much better in helping with the proceeds.

 

Unfortunately for him, though, a hand closed around his bicep when he only had a little distance left to cover on his way to the door, and the shrill, playful voice of another socialite was dragging him back to the growing crowd of elites. Fuck his luck, huh.

 

Soon enough, the lady in the blue dress, notably younger than he, had gotten through the dense circle of suffocating perfume and cologne, notice of his presence prompting people to part for them like Moses parting the Red Sea. Once having broken through, he was rushed right up to Superman, the woman talking a mile a minute- _Brucie, dear, have you met Superman before? Why, lovely darling, this is Brucie, though I’m sure you already know of Mister Wayne, isn’t that right, Superman? I’m quite positive you two will get along well, what with the both of you being the lookers that you are! Try not to go around corrupting the man, Brucie Dear! And you, if Mister Wayne here doesn’t fit your tastes, you’re always welcome to sweep some other dashing lady that isn’t Lois Lane off their feet!_

 

All the while, Bruce stood uncomfortably, the eyes of the crowd watching intensely as Bruce’s tapering reply of, “No, I haven’t met him face to face before” got drowned out by the lady’s chatter and self-absorbed giggles. Eventually, he just raised his hand in preparation of a handshake, rattling out his customary introduction.

“Hello. Bruce Wayne. It's a pleasure to meet you.”

 

In front of him, Superman was notably uncomfortable to a similar degree. Again, Bruce cursed his height, wishing he was at least some inches taller; standing straight in front of the man of steel, Bruce’s eyes came up to the Kryptonian’s bulging chest, almost at his collarbone. Still, he was left to upturn his head whilst the man peered down at him, hand brought out to shake while the lady beside them fled into the crowd.

 

Superman took his chance to introduce himself. “Hello, Mister Wayne. I see that you’re looking mighty fine uncomfortable as well for being in your element, tonight.”

 

He took a sharp intake of air-

 

And then the words were sending an electric shock through his system, one that had him squeezing Superman’s hand tightly, surely tight enough that he’d notice, though the man of steel kept his gaze, seemingly unaffected. Only an unreadable spark of emotion behind the unearthly blue eyes indicated to Bruce that Superman knew just about as much, what had just happened. What it means.

 

Before the handshake became uncomfortably long, Bruce pulled pack, tense to a degree that only someone standing as close as Superman would take notice. _You’re shitting me_ , Bruce excitedly mulled over in his head. _There’s no fucking way._

 

Still, he had to play it off. He can find answers later, but fuck, he was so excited. He’d dreamed his meeting with his soulmate before but this… this was beyond what he’d thought he’d ever get. Was this some sick joke on the Kryptonian’s part? Did he x-ray Bruce’s soulmate tattoo before speaking with him in a sick and twisted effort to rope him into a scheme? What was his motive?

 

Unable to do anything drastically accusing in front of the crowd, Bruce let words tumble out his mouth. “I assume, like our friend there said,” Bruce started, nudging his head in the direction of the lady who’d either just cursed or blessed him this night,” you have heard of me already.”

 

Under the Man of Steel’s penetrating gaze, he almost felt unclean. Not just with the scrutiny of an overpowered being, though, but with the underlying elephant in the room.  


“Why, yes I have, Mister Wayne. Your _reputation_ ,” he enunciated with an almost imperceptible tone of disdain,” does exceed you, after all.”

 

For a second, Bruce doesn’t get what he’s implying, and then it hits like a bus of regret, has him stuck on the very spot he stood, then with a sinking dread in his gut.

 

A ringing in Bruce’s suit’s hidden pocket breaks him out of his hurt daze and, suddenly, he’s fleeing the crowd, excusing himself in that he had to answer the phone in private, what with it being his private number, ergo, it had to be a family member.

 

As Bruce found a secluded balcony, doubt raced through him. Maybe he was just imagining the disdain in Superman’s voice. Perhaps there wasn’t anything to make a big deal of.

 

He answers his phone and it’s Alfred requesting that he make his way home. The boys were, apparently, fighting again, and he needed him there to break them up. But Bruce knew deep down, though, and god bless that old man, that Alfred had actually called because he knew he hated these social calls and probably assumed Bruce had had his fill for tonight. Even if the boys were fighting, though, a single word from the man alone could settle the room into silence. He wasn’t needed.

 

Responding that he’d be on his way, Bruce tucked away his phone and made his way towards the exit like he’d originally intended minutes earlier. Down the hall, to the elevators, he paused, feeling a set of eyes fall on his back, and he turned, suddenly, to the sight of Superman leaning against the mouth of the hall he’d just exited.

 

“We need to talk, Mister Wayne,” he commanded coldly, and suddenly, Bruce didn’t feel all too confident about his safety or potential relationships. The sinking feeling came back.

 

For a moment, Bruce was left staring, mouth slightly parted dumbly before he realized he had yet to respond and stuttered out a soft, “Uh, s-sure…”

 

Across from him, Superman lifted off the wall, sighing almost irritably.

 

“Listen, Mister Wayne,” he started formally, like he didn’t even want to bother with getting on a level of familiarity despite being soulmates, “I’m pretty sure that you are also well acquainted with my reputation- the kind of person I am. Just as well as I am with yours, in fact.”

 

He paused, like he was contemplating his words.

 

“I don’t want to beat around the bush. We’re soulmates, I’m positive of it, but, I can’t be… you know.” He gesticulated between himself and Bruce, as if to convey his thoughts. “I can’t be seen with someone like… you… do you understand?”

And, as though he hadn’t just shattered the realms of Bruce’s heart, hadn’t just flipped his stomach upside down, he gave a small shrug and a nervous smile, like he was unsure of how he should sugarcoat the pain. With it, a petty, _hurt_ part deep inside Bruce’s mind wanted to sink into the ground or die suddenly, as though it’d help ease the hurt gnawing at his heart.

 

Instead, though, he kept standing stock still, staring dumbly at Superman with wide eyes and, just when his silence was beginning to get worrying, he nodded. Slow; almost imperceptible.

 

“Uh huh… yeah, I- I understand, Superman.”

 

A numbing cold struck his gut. It wasn’t supposed to turn out like this. He’d dreamed of the day he could meet his other half as a child, sleeping between the loving heartbeats of his mother and father in their bedroom. Fantasized about the days he’d be happy and safe in another one’s arms in the months following his parents’ murder. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. _He didn’t even give me a chance…_

 

Reeling from the cold numbness and racing anxiety, though, Bruce sent himself turning around, back towards the elevators. The alien seemed to want to extend his suffering, though, because his heavy palm landed on Bruce’s shoulder, turning him back towards him gently, like he was a fragile doll. Like he wasn’t already breaking into pieces from his words alone.

 

Again, that smile was there.

 

“Look, I don’t mean it in a way to hurt you, Mister Wayne. I just- I can’t see myself with someone like you. If anything, maybe we’re simply mismatched. It happens and, if anything, I’m not even of Earth. I’m sure you can see where I’m coming from.” There was a haze of concern in the man’s eyes and, for a second, Bruce was almost enraptured by them, believing him genuine. He wanted to call him out on it, to so desperately scream and thrash against that warm and firm hold. To rebel.

 

But he didn’t. He complied, played along instead. He nodded, refusing to look the man in the eyes, and turned back to the elevators with the alien’s lax grip falling from his shoulder.

 

When he’d entered the elevator, turning back towards the hall as he picked the first floor, he took note of Superman’s absence.

 

As soon as the man had barged into his life, broken his walls, and danced on the shattered remains, he’d left again, going just as fast.

 

In that elevator, with the doors closing and a desperate fight to hold back the tears that he’d later surrender to in the privacy of his car, Bruce wished to the gods that he’d never have to confront the pain of seeing Superman or talking to him ever again.

 

^(OvO)^


	2. Concurrence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dog still missing :(  
> sorry for the short chapter

^(OvO)^

 

The second Bruce stepped into Wayne Manor, angrily flinging his keys against a vase and alerting everyone of his presence, all the residents knew something was wrong. From afar, they watched in silence as the man of the house stomped up the stairs, headed for his bedroom. In the intense silence, the slamming of the master bedroom door rung loud.

 

Down by the living area that neared the stairs, the family glanced nervously at one another, particularly Alfred. He hadn’t seen such silent, almost caving behavior from his young ward since prior to his adopting Master Dick, back when he was still a reeling mess from the death of his parents, harsh criticisms, and failed relationships. Bruce wasn’t his biological son, but he may as well have viewed him as such and worried for him as so.

 

Seeing the gears turning in their father’s guardian’s head, the boys looked to each other. From outside their video game circle, Cassandra had worry etched into her face, causing her to scrunch up her eyebrows while she hugged her still open book to her chest. As the eldest, Dick knew something had to be done, though, what, he didn’t particularly know. For all the years he’d been under Bruce’s wing, he hadn’t necessarily been around when Bruce was still acting like this. With the confused glances of Jason, Tim, and Damian, it was safe to assume that they’ve never seen him like this either. 

 

With their still reigning silence, the melodious sounds of music originating from Bruce’s room weren’t difficult to hear. A little harder and one could make out the lyrics of “Never Too Late” by Three Days Grace. Ah. That gave some answers. After all, the song was part of Bruce’s go-to playlist when he wasn’t feeling all too well. Amongst the gathering, it was silently agreed upon that it was best to leave Bruce alone.

 

He’d speak when he was ready.

 

^(OvO)^

 

It was days before Bruce actually mustered the energy and motivation to actually talk. Dragging his ass out of his room took two days after he summarily started feeling guilty over having Alfred make his way up and down the stairs thrice a day to get him his food. Not counting the hourly check ups to make sure Bruce wasn’t doing anything concerning over the cover of his music, of course. Sometimes, he forgot that Alfred regarded him as his own son and, ergo, grew concerned about his well being on a day to day basis, seeing as how the man was usually stoic and hard pressed by personal standards to remain professional.

 

When he spilled, it was at the dinner table, cutting through the sporadic chatter of his kids who’d been carefully avoiding talking to him as a way to avoid pushing him to talk.  _ By god, he was blessed to have met these angels _ , Bruce reminded himself out of habit. It was easy to get wrapped up in other matters in life. He never wanted to forget the gift that were his kids.

 

“I met my soulmate.”

 

He didn’t have to elaborate further. The dejected expression he wore was enough for the kids to figure things out vaguely by themselves. Of course, their immediate reaction was to pose a threat and protect that father.

 

“What’s the bastard’s name, old man? We’re gonna kick their ass,” Jason, the ever energetic twenty year old boldy exclaimed, ignoring Alfred’s reprimand at his foul language. Quickly, Damian took to a similar line of speaking and promptly begun declaring revenge for Bruce, all whilst Cassandra and Tim sat aside, trying to snag any detail in the boisterous scheming of Jason and Dick so they could get to taking down their father’s soulmate.

 

It was such a sight that Bruce burst into joyous laughter, one that tickled him down i the depths beneath his sorrow. Their father’s protector, huh…With the sight of them all, crowding the ever so empty table with an air of family, Bruce reprimanded himself for ever wallowing in the rejection of a man who he’d only known to be his soulmate and nothing else. He had his beautiful, loving family and a surrogate father that he couldn’t have lived without. Why wallow in not being happy when he had happiness right here?

 

Still, though, the thoughts of the rejection sent sick, nauseous feelings through his being, and he tapered off while everyone in the room waited for an answer.   
  
“I love you all dearly,” Bruce started, wiping a joyous tear from his eye, “you all know that, right?” A dead silence and Bruce was cradling his face between propped up arms, massaging his temples while a sniffle escaped him.

 

“It’s fine…,” he tried to reassure, “It really is.”

 

He didn’t fight the warm arms of his adult and teenage kids alike that closed around him; a caring hug that smothered him with love.

 

From the corner of the dining room, Alfred’s camera eternalized the scene, all the while, not interrupting the moment.

 

^(OvO)^

Some days later, the news would be playing in Wayne Manor with family and friends alike, gathered, and in the darkness of the huddled masses, Alfred, Dick, Jason, Tim, Cassandra, and Damian made a silent vow to hurt Superman if they ever saw him, eyes trailing over from his speeding figure on TV to Bruce’s tense figure, sitting on the end of the couch, face illuminated by the light of the television.

 

They didn’t care if Superman was invulnerable. They’d find a way because damn them if they were to let the Man of Steel hurt Bruce and get away with it.

 

^(OvO)^

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dog still missing :(  
> sorry for the short chapter


	3. Lovesick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck me in the ass if I can't get better at writing fluff  
> Also idk why I write Bruce in as adorable and whatnot but yknow what, it's a good idea, I'm keeping it. There's no scowly batman here afterall, it's fine.  
> And why??? Do i have this chapter moving so fast??? That's a mistake I'm not bothered to try and fix at the moment

^(OvO)^

 

“Mister Wayne?”

 

A velvety voice called out in Bruce’s office, snatching his attention. At his door, a reporter awaited permission for entry, the pretty thing. Her brown hair flowed down her shoulders and the lavender suit jacket did little to squash her aura of confidence.

 

Letting out a small yawn behind his hand, Bruce nodded, welcoming her in. “Miss Lane, please, do come in- make yourself at home. I apologize, I’ve had more work than usual as of late,” Bruce explained, gesturing at the piles of paperwork littering his glass-top desk. “I hope you understand and don’t find me rude.”

 

Lois settling into her seat, she lets out a huff of amusement and smiles. “Yes, yes, I do Mister Wayne. After all, the reporter life doesn’t give much room for freetime.” If it weren’t for the smile, Bruce might have thought her malicious in her commentary.

 

_Almost like-_

 

Instantly, Bruce cuts off that train of thought, mentally reprimanding himself for drifting back to it. The incident with Superman had been two weeks ago, and yet he was still caught up on it.

 

_Stupid, stupid, stupid-_

 

“Mister Wayne!” The sharp yell shook Bruce of his stupor, causing him to flinch as he focused back on Lois Lane.

 

“Fu- Sorry, sorry,” he apologized again, angry at himself. “I-”

 

Concerned and seemingly almost angry, Lois interrupted, “Are you okay, Mister Wayne? You seem to be having severe issues keeping your focus.” There was a bit of irritation lacing her voice.

 

Again, Bruce waved it off. “Yes, yes, I just- There’s been a lot on my mind as of late.” A pause. “I’ll try my best not to let it get in the way of today’s interview.”

 

From across his desk, Lois frowned momentarily as though she didn’t believe it, and then held up her notepad. “Sure, Mister Wayne. Let us get started.”

 

^(OvO)^

 

For the fourth consecutive day of the third week following the incident, Bruce was suffering from a severe headache in his office. Head cradled in his arms and fingers massaging his temples, Bruce let out a groan of frustration, getting no relief from the it. He had an idea of what might be causing it but he didn’t exactly feel motivated to attend to the issue.

 

As of now, there was too much work for him to get caught up on for him to take a break. Recent developments with Queen Industries have lead to the formation of several contracts in preparation for a co-op project and the paperwork and negotiations haven’t spared him any time at all. He slept when he could and ate whatever came his way. Moreover, he was still down from the encounter with Superman and thought it best if he attempted to distract himself from the memories with work.

 

It was a logical conclusion.

 

And really not all that thought out, to be honest.

 

A growl from his stomach sent another wave of pain and frustration to his head, and he laid his forehead against the glass of his desk in hopes that the cold feel of it would soothe the throbs.

 

Faintly, in the back of his mind, the sound of his office door opening smoothly registered, and the worried, frantic steps of his secretary rushing towards his desk raised alarm. Presently, though, he continued to lay unaffected and only released a sluggish, sickly groan at the warm hand planted against his shoulder made to shake him.

 

“Are you okay, sir?” The secretary named Rosalina asked with a tinge of concern. Remembering to be polite, Bruce turned his head onto its side, eyes kept closed in the glare of the ceiling lights to reassure her. “Yes, dear, just a bit of a headache is all. Not feeling all too well, actually.”

 

Above, a look of contemplation unseen by Bruce came across Rosalina’s face, and she remembered with a bit of skepticism that her boss had barely requested any food, nor had any brought into his office since he came in despite it having been 4 PM already while he entered his office in the ungodly gotham hours of 10 AM. Outside, on the balcony, she could still see the breaks of sunlight illuminating the steel railings, mentally relieved that she didn’t have to suffer the summer heat in her current environment. However, turning back to Bruce, she recognized the issue clearly.

 

“Mister Wayne?” she called out in hopes that the man hadn’t fallen asleep on her yet. A groan for an answer and she was assured he had yet to do so. “Did you happen to eat breakfast?” A slow, sluggish shuffle of the head that had his cheek smeared against the table top was Bruce’s response. A clacking of a nervous heel, for a moment, and Rosalina was speaking again. “Well, sir, I think you’re just really hungry is all. Mayhaps you don’t have the energy. Do you want me to get you something to eat?” A pause for consideration. “Maybe you’d enjoy a small walk around the building and then come back in seeing as how you haven’t left your office since the second you came in. You realize you don’t have to finish all this paperwork in one setting, right?”

 

With her talk, Bruce nodded along, accepting the offer for food. On the last note, he slurred out with whatever energy he could muster, “Yeah, but… I don’t know, Rose.” The secretary scoffed at the nickname with exasperation. “I don’t really wanna have time to think for myself… I haven’t been up to it as of late,” and he turned up his head again to lay his chin against the glass, eyes panning across the table littered with papers and pens of different colors, a gift from Dick on his birthday that February.

 

“Relationship trouble, sir?” Rosalina asked knowingly, accustomed to the moping of fellow coworkers and the ramblings of friends desperate to meet their soulmates. From down on the desk she leaned her hip on, Bruce had the most pitiable look and sad eyes that made her want to hunker down on a couch with him and hug him till he finally smiled.

 

He gave an “uh-huh” muffled by his chin still on the glass.

 

For a second, Rosalina had thought of sighing irritably in dismissal, but for all she had trouble understanding or grasping the concept of love and lust in the society around her, she caved to her boss’s teary eyes and pout. “Stay still, sir, I’ll go scavenge the break room for you,” and she left Bruce to continue moping on the desk.

 

Minutes ticked by as Bruce’s thoughts continued to drift back to Superman’s rejection, and in the emptiness of his office, he let out a pathetic whimper. Soon after, Rosalina returned with a donut and a kool-aid in hand for Bruce, which he took gratefully and munched after he mustered the energy to lay back against his chair. The “Thank you, Rose” came out muffled and adorable, though still laced with sadness. By the desk, Rosalina hummed as if to say “Your welcome.”

 

“Well, Mister Wayne, I have to get back to work.”

 

“Okay.” A pause, and Bruce was swallowing his food. “Actually,” he called out again, “I might head on out now. Do you mind getting a digital scan of these documents and emailing me them? I’ll just read them at home.”

 

Sighing, Rosalina made to respond, but Bruce interrupted, “You- You don’t have to, Rose, just- if you have the time. I’m sorry-” and to repay him the favor, Rosalina interrupted back. “It’s fine, Mister Wayne. I’ll just have to do it last, is all. I have higher priority things to get to.”

 

With a smile, Bruce thanked her again, and as she was on her way out, he stood to gather his things and organize the papers before he took to leaving the office, a little bit of energy zapped into him now from the small snack.

 

Making his way outside, Bruce said goodbye to passing employees and denied an offer to be driven home, thinking it best that he take a walk.

 

He could use some fresh air, after all.

 

^(OvO)^

 

He did not need any, better yet that of Gotham’s polluted, summer air. Under the typical cloud cover of the city, the heat became humid and dirty smelling, sending a sick feeling to his stomach that didn’t mix well with the donut and kool-aid he had earlier.

 

Turning into an alleyway, Bruce gagged momentarily, before he began spasming and, soon thereafter, puked behind a dumpster. In his deliriousness, the stomach acid delivered a sickening burn to the back of his throat that he was very aware of, and he curled his arm around his abdomen as if it would do any good in easing the contractions of his stomach.

 

Under the summer heat of Gotham and in a filthy, foul-stenched alleyway, Bruce stood straight from the mess of his stomach’s contents and tilted his head back into the sky.

 

In record time, the nausea clawed at his vision and heart, and he was left passing out, but before his skull could crack open at the cement where his knees had buckled, a hand came from behind him, cradling the head and pulling Bruce’s torso close to their own.

 

A distressed exhale, as if overwhelmed.

 

God.

 

It was worse than they thought.

 

^(OvO)^


	4. Walls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delayed update, shit went down and then I got too busy to upload. Also, I have a startling amount of requests to hurt Superman so I added a little bonus to this chap in lieu of them :)
> 
> But anyways, yeah, things got real busy lately even tho it’s vaca and my dad’s looking to sue the company he works for in light of workplace compensation and so we’ve been talking lately about certain information regarding his health and discussing whether or not he should make a case. As a result, I’ve been busy working on some questions and concerns and now he wants me to look for a lawyer so :/ Yeah. Sorry to everyone who was waiting but also, happy new years!
> 
> Did I mention you can find me on tumblr? Yeah, my URL’s Owlsinyourbelfry. Did I mention I’m an artist? Yeah! Weird shit, huh? And yknow what I should probably get to work on that weird ass plot I’ve had in my head for months now that focuses on Owlman and Batman as brothers.
> 
> Maybe someday in the future, but not today.
> 
> On another note, I might rewrite chapters for this fic in the future (i.e. the first five chapters) because they were hastily written at 2AM on Christmas morning so I don’t think they were my best product. Or at least, yall don’t deserve the terrible quality of em. I can write better, too, I know it, but I guess I was burnt out by that time from celebrations and sleep deprivation so yah.
> 
> Dog’s still missing, btw :( We have a specific neighbor who we think might have killed him because he owns a BB gun and said dog has come home w a bb pellet on him before, though he also sometimes practices with his actual guns in the fields in front of our neighborhood before. If that fucker did, there’s nothing we can do about it lest I take shit into my own hands because the police here are fucking useless for one of Cali’s smallest towns and trust me when I say I know because I’ve met ‘em before. 
> 
> Anyways, yeah, have a nice day. Enjoy the update.
> 
> EXTRA : KFNKSJDKDJFKD MY LAPTOP DIED ON ME WHILE I WAS TRYING TO UPLOAD THIS CHAPTER BUT GOD FORGOT I HAD DOCS ON MY IPAD AND PREWROTE MY NOTE THIS TIME BECAUSE I KNEW SOME DUMB SHIT WOULD GET IN THE WAY, SMTHN ALWAYS DOES

^(OvO)^

 

“Dad? Dad! Alfred, he’s waking up!”

 

In Bruce’s bleak vision, swarmed with darkness, he heard the Jason’s worried call, heart clenching at being called “dad”. Immediately, the sound of quick, stampeding feet came into the room, followed by the calls of his other children and a hand at his forehead, prompting him to open his eyes.

 

“Master Bruce?” In the dim room, Bruce awoke to his surrogate father’s worried face, eyebrows furrowed to convey his concern. Weakly, Bruce let out a groan and, “Alfred?”

 

Turning his head and momentarily displacing Alfred’s gloved hand, Bruce looked around to see his master bedroom, crowded with his children, his childhood doctor Leslie Thompson, and… an unfamiliar man?? Sitting in the chair at the corner of his room??  
  
Not taking his eyes off of the guy who was growing notably uncomfortable by the second, Bruce croaked out, “Alfred? What happened? And how did I get here?”

 

With a relieved sigh, Alfred answered, “Sir, you were very malnourished and low on rest-”

 

Bursting with worry, Dick jumped into his field of view, pointing his thumb at the unfamiliar man. “Mister Kent over here found you passed out in an alley, Bruce!! In an alley and in the heat! You were left there for anyone!! Anyone! To see!”

 

Similarly distressed, Jason followed after, exclaiming, “You’re lucky it was Kent here who found you, Bruce, and so soon, too.” Confused, Bruce zoned in on him, as if asking for explanation what with his head still tired and not yet ready to think. “God dammit, old man- What if we lost you, Bruce?”

 

Shoving his face up close, Bruce could see the thick swallow of his son, the bob of his throat indicating just how difficult it was of him to get that sentence out. In a second, he understood, and he moved his face towards the man- Kent- again to give his gratitude.

 

Quickly, his two eldest moved back, and Bruce spoke to the best of his abilities. “T-Thank you mister…?” Flustered, the man stuttered out fast, “C-Clark Kent, Mister Wayne. I’m a reporter.”

 

Nodding, Bruce continued, “Thank you, Clark. And please, call me Bruce. You deserve my utmost gratitude for your actions. I…,” Bruce trailed, “I don’t know how I can possible repay you. Is there anything you’d…?”

It seemed to have taken Clark a second before he got what Bruce was implying. “Oh!” he exclaimed with embarrassed surprise. “No, no! I- There’s nothing I want in return, Mis- Bruce. I was- I just- Think of it as a- a good deed. It was… It was the right thing to do, is all. There’s no need to repay me.”

 

Dumbstruck, the family stared back, not entirely believing the shy, righteous behavior, but not disbelieving of it either. It was Bruce, though, who managed to regain his composure first.

 

“Well…,” he started, looking out to the darkened sky outside his windows, “It’s rather late, now. At best- I mean, would you at least stay for dinner? Or perhaps mind sleeping here in the manor tonight? If you don’t want anything…? I mean, it’d also be a bad idea to wander into the night at this time of day?”

 

Silent, Clark looked as though he were contemplating the offer and soon decided against it. “No, it’s fine, B-”

 

“Nonsense!” Alfred interrupted. “We won’t go about leaving our good friend here go unpaid.” Beside him, the children chattered in agreement. Almost as if knowing he had no choice, Clark wore an expression of resignation and sighed almost fondly. “Fine, fine. Thank you, though, really. I appreciate the concern.”

 

Now settled, Alfred turned to Bruce next. “And you, Master Bruce. You’re going to join us for dinner. What with the professed problems, I think I’ll be keeping a close eye on your diet for a while- maybe even send a schedule over to your secretary over in Wayne Tower, sir.”

 

Embarrassed with the effort of work being put into watching him, Bruce nodded shamefully at his bed covers which he realized, suddenly, was hiding his near naked body, kept decent only with a pair of soft boxers.

 

He stilled. The room quieted, Bruce, the center of attention while he slowly reddened.

 

Outside the room, a member of the weekly cleaning crew was suddenly startled as the occupants of the master bedroom suddenly rushed out, stumbling against each other on their way and the youngsters, giggling. The only context he got was a roar of “EVERYONE!! GET OUT!! OF MY ROOM!! NOW!!!”

 

^(OvO)^

“Master Damian, I insist that you cease your attempts to stab your brother! Master Richard, Master Jason, you cannot eat ice cream before dinner!!” Yelling and chatter enveloped the dining room, battle cries elevated to the ceiling while food had yet to be brought into the dining room. Bruce, appropriately, sat at the head of the table and, beside him were Leslie and Clark. Following them were the kids, seated across and beside each other in no particular pattern. Dick, Jason, and Cassandra after Clark on Bruce’s right and Timothy and Damian following Leslie on his left.

 

In noise, Bruce and Alfred’s reprimands remained drowned out. At Bruce’s “Kids, behave yourselves, we have a guest!!”, Clark grew apologetic, trying to tell Bruce it was okay under the barrage of the boys’ yelling.

 

Suddenly, though, Bruce seemed to realize something and he turned to Clark sharply, nearly startling the man. “Um… Clark?” Sickeningly polite, Clark asked with an upturned “yep” that popped the “p”.

 

“Are… you going to be um… y’know,” Bruce asked, earning himself a glare at the informal speech from across the room, “writing a piece on this?”

 

He looked almost nervous, maybe even breathless with anxiety as he looked at Clark. “Oh- uh- no, I won’t, Bruce. It’s not one of my assignments to report on you, after all.”

 

Bruce, of course, zoned in on that. “Not your assignment? Do you mean to say that you’d hand off the information to someone else?” he asked, words laced with menace. He ignored Leslie’s reprimand of “Bruce, don’t be rude!” and Clark realized his mistake, correcting, quickly, “No, no! I don’t mean it like that, sorry. Just- I mean- Well, for one, I’m an investigative journalist, two, I um, well, if you don’t want me reporting on it, I wouldn’t mind. I just meant to say that, well… it’s not something I was planning on reporting on? If you want to put it that way? I always could if you’d like, though, but I don’t see any benefit out of it.” He became quiet for a moment. “My coworkers have done all the ‘catching up on Wayne’ already, after all. If anything, they already have news on other weird behavior from you earlier today.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Before Clark could explain, Leslie spoke up. “What he means to say, Bruce, is that _reporters_ knew something was wrong with you as of late before _you_ did,” the jab at his declining health not going unnoticed by the billionaire. “For two weeks, Gotham Gazette, the Daily Planet, and the Starr have been pushing out social column pieces about your decrease in public appearances. Meanwhile, twitter has been doing the favor of posting images of you walking out of your office on the near _daily_ with saddest adorable face to bless Gotham since cat videos emerged.”

 

Flabbergasted, Bruce demanded proof and was met with the bright phone screens of his children.

 

He honestly didn’t know why he asked.

 

^(OvO)^

 

“Holy crud,” Kent sighed beside Bruce, settled into his chair with absolute bliss painting his face. “That’s some of the best cooking I’ve ever had the blessing of eating. Ever.” Bruce scoffed and Clark retaliated with “Seriously.”

 

Around them, plates that had been picked clean were being slowly gathered, the kids already having retreated to one of the TV rooms and Leslie having gone upstairs for the night since Alfred extended the offer to stay for the night, what with the Gotham streets being dangerous in the dark. Thus, the two grown men sat alone, talking in the vast space of the dining room.  
  
“What’s the best?”

  
“My ma’s cooking, of course.”

 

Bruce let out one of the biggest smiles he’s had in a long while, charmed. “Acceptable answer.”

 

A relieving silence. “So, a reporter?”

 

Clark gave an abashed grin. “Yeah. For the Daily Planet. Have been for five years steady.” In his seat, Bruce seemed to have an epiphany and brought his hand to his mouth.

 

“The Daily Planet? That explains why I thought I’d heard your name before! You’re Clark Kent, one of the Planet’s top reporters, almost directly under the famous Lois Lane!”

 

Clark reddened in his chair, glad for the praise. “Yeah, that’s me,” followed by a small chuckle. “Didn’t realize I was so good that a billionaire could remember me, of all things.”

 

The remark brought an aw from Bruce, and he was patting his seated companion’s shoulder. “Don’t talk like that, Clark. I’ve read your pieces; the exposé you wrote on that corrupted official a couple of years back was beautifully written!” Clark blushed again, chuckling. “Clark!! It had undeniable evidence and the words were strung along so…,” Bruce gesticulated at the ceiling, trying to find a word, “compellingly written!!”

 

Squirming under the man’s gaze, Clark replied, “Th-thank you, m- Bruce. That was actually- um- the piece that won me my first pulitzer prize,” and Bruce was left gawking at the reporter.

 

“What won you your second?” he had to ask.

 

“Why, unrelenting harassment of drunken, loose-mouthed millionaires, of course. Perry delights in sending me to those social events.”

 

Relating the dreadful events that had to be what Clark attended for research, Bruce let out a loud guffaw, laughing for the first time in a couple of weeks.

 

In that dining room, the two men stayed up until midnight, chatting away at each other under the bright lights until Alfred came downstairs, insisting that Clark get some sleep before he returned to work tomorrow and that Bruce get some well-deserved rest of his own.

 

That night, Bruce went to bed, curled up under his soft egyptian cotton sheets and head, atop fluffy pillows with a smile on his face and Clark on his mind.

 

^(OvO)^

 

Bonus;

 

From the darkness of his own borrowed room, Clark peered through the ancient walls of Wayne Manor that cradled the life and soul of his other half as though they were his protector.

 

He sighed, distress rooted deep into his mind and anxiety swirling, a deep, gut-curling mess in the depths of his abdomen that spread through him and drawled behind his brain with a dark, deep whisper.

 

If only these walls knew that they had an infiltrator in them; a traitor to their purpose. A person who’d invaded the walls of their precious descendent and who had broken the walls of said descendant’s mind, painting it with anguish and rotten self-hatred. A traitor that, by all means, didn’t deserve to see his lovely soulmate’s smile.

 

A Superman.

 

^(OvO)^

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delayed update, shit went down and then I got too busy to upload. Also, I have a startling amount of requests to hurt Superman so I added a little bonus to this chap in lieu of them :)
> 
> But anyways, yeah, things got real busy lately even tho it’s vaca and my dad’s looking to sue the company he works for in light of workplace compensation and so we’ve been talking lately about certain information regarding his health and discussing whether or not he should make a case. As a result, I’ve been busy working on some questions and concerns and now he wants me to look for a lawyer so :/ Yeah. Sorry to everyone who was waiting but also, happy new years!
> 
> Did I mention you can find me on tumblr? Yeah, my URL’s Owlsinyourbelfry. Did I mention I’m an artist? Yeah! Weird shit, huh? And yknow what I should probably get to work on that weird ass plot I’ve had in my head for months now that focuses on Owlman and Batman as brothers.
> 
> Maybe someday in the future, but not today.
> 
> On another note, I might rewrite chapters for this fic in the future (i.e. the first five chapters) because they were hastily written at 2AM on Christmas morning so I don’t think they were my best product. Or at least, yall don’t deserve the terrible quality of em. I can write better, too, I know it, but I guess I was burnt out by that time from celebrations and sleep deprivation so yah.
> 
> Dog’s still missing, btw :( We have a specific neighbor who we think might have killed him because he owns a BB gun and said dog has come home w a bb pellet on him before, though he also sometimes practices with his actual guns in the fields in front of our neighborhood before. If that fucker did, there’s nothing we can do about it lest I take shit into my own hands because the police here are fucking useless for one of Cali’s smallest towns and trust me when I say I know because I’ve met ‘em before. 
> 
> Anyways, yeah, have a nice day. Enjoy the update.
> 
> EXTRA : KFNKSJDKDJFKD MY LAPTOP DIED ON ME WHILE I WAS TRYING TO UPLOAD THIS CHAPTER BUT GOD FORGOT I HAD DOCS ON MY IPAD AND PREWROTE MY NOTE THIS TIME BECAUSE I KNEW SOME DUMB SHIT WOULD GET IN THE WAY, SMTHN ALWAYS DOES


	5. Unfaithful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t make any drastic changes to this chapter before I decided to upload it so I still hope yall enjoy. I looked thru it and whatnot and found it decent so I left it mostly at that. The next chapter will… embody… a sense of a different style, though. As I mentioned before, I prewrote five chapters for this fic, this being the fifth, and I was kinda burnt out while doing so. Also, I’m not well versed in angst and domestic writing so they’d been difficult and fast paced when I personally read them. There’s not much to telling you this besides that the extent to which I’d been using my effort for this fic thus far is gonna shift starting with the next chapter. 
> 
> I think what I did wrong, especially, is prewrite, well, FIVE CHAPTERS. When I started, I had it set in mind that I’d write five chapters and there were specific portions of my original plot that I’d thought to incorporate when writing them so I either unnecessarily stretched out information or forced scenes to be longer and it made for a story pace that was too quick for me to enjoy now that I think about it. With that, I hope yall will find the upcoming chapters more filling and detailed with a lot more insight and imagery than I originally had written with. I can’t promise that I’ll be consistent, though, because I go back to school in less than a week and a half on top of having a shit ton of hw on a regular basis, hobbies, piano practice, and, hopefully, track and field soon. In short, my time will be more or less occupied. Regardless, I hope you find/found this reading and the following few pleasurable, and good day to you all.
> 
> EXTRA NOTE : Do not walk away yet if you wanna see how shit's going for Clark. I know I rushed him into the story with past couple of chapters, but you will get what you want soon :) I promise.

^(OvO)^

 

“It’s a shame,” Damian suddenly said in the midst of another round of Mario Kart.

 

“It’s a shame what?” Jason pressed, refusing to tear his eyes from the screen where he was currently trying to maneuver rainbow road.   
  
“You know… that Kent isn’t father’s soulmate.”

 

“Pfft,” Tim scoffed, “what’s with the sudden interest in romance? Thought you said that soulmates are a pathetic topic and not worth your attention?”

 

Offended, he quickly retorted. “It’s not that, Drake!! It’s- I just want to see father… happy? The sight of him moping around the manor like that of recent has felt… unnatural.” A shiver went through everyone else in the room as they secretly agreed with his assessment. Besides Dick and Jason, none of the kids had ever seen Bruce in one of his depressive romantic phases. Even though the man had gone about listening to music in the enclosed space of his room before, the depressing music that’s been coming out of there as of recent was new.

 

From his spot on the couch, Dick hummed. “Okay, and why do you suddenly feel that Mister Kent would suit Bruce?” he asked, the sound of buttons being pressed intensifying as their virtual race continued. In the lone chair, Cassandra’s interest was piqued, and she was intensely listening in.

 

Damian spluttered. “I-I don’t know! Just! You came with me to spy on them after dinner, too, Grayson! You saw how naturally they spoke with each other. It was like they were… friends. Surely you, too, saw the potential between them.”

 

Dick sighed. “I did, little D, but you know how Bruce is. He’s stubborn. If anything, the farthest he’d take themselves is friendship, and that’s assuming that he’d even reach out to Kent after yesterday. But yeah, I think they flow well with each other, regardless of if they pursue romance or somethin’ else.”

 

“Maybe only friendship can blossom between them, but what you youngsters don’t know is that Master Bruce is much more of a romantic than the lot of you expect him to be,” Alfred claimed out of the blue, unprompted and startling the occupants of the room. 

 

“Gee, Alfred, you think so?” Jason muttered, still focused on the screen.

 

“None of that nonsense, Master Jason.” He smiled fondly and turned to leave the room. “I know so.”

 

^(OvO)^

 

The office was bustling, as he’d assume it to be on the daily. Stepping into the crowded floor, he slowly started garnering attention from all angles of the room, glances turning into second glances that turned into stares as reporters disbelievingly watched Bruce fucking Wayne stroll across their floor with a gift basket and a tray of three coffees.

 

Slowly, chatting dies down in concentrated areas and, in the steadily growing silence, Bruce awkwardly leans towards a passing intern, asking, “Hey, um, do you happen to know where Clark Kent’s desk is…?”

 

Once the dumbstruck face of the intern melts away, she attends to Bruce’s request, walking frantically to guide the man to Clark’s area where she points to the oblivious reporter sitting at his desk, typing away like a madman, and then leaves in the wake of snooping reporters gathering. There, facing Clark’s cubicle, Bruce stands quietly, noticed first by Lois Lane who doubles back on the sight of him and promptly jabbed Clark with a knowing smile on her face.

 

With the jab, Clark let out an “oof!”, and he turned to snap at Lane before catching Bruce at the corner of his eye.

 

Like any sensible adult faced by a billionaire out of the blue, he panicked.

 

“Bruce!! What are you doing here!?!” he yelled, eyes wide and mouth agape in horror and shock at both the former playboy and the gathering behind him. Suddenly, Bruce’s bright eyes turned downcast, and his sheepish smile turned tight lipped and uncertain. “Did- was it… wrong for me to come here?”

 

Before the apology could be made out, Clark was back to interrupting him. “No, it’s not that, Bruce! Never that, it’s just-” he gestured to behind him, scoffing with humor, “-you have a tendency to stand out and I wasn’t expecting you is all.” His eyes zoned in on the gifts in Bruce’s hands and, for an unbelievable moment, Bruce thought he’d seen them zoom up and down his body. “Are you… here for something, Bruce?”

 

Instantly, Bruce remembered his reason for visiting, and he was lifting the gift basket again and making his way forward. “Oh- yeah- um, we wanted to give you this gift basket- y’know… as a sign of thanks.” Blushing, he shoved it into Clark’s hands, aware of the eyes behind him.

 

“Aw, Bruce, you didn’t have to,” Clark cooed, a grin slowly overtaking the sharp panes of his face and the soft, curly hair on his head bouncing and shuffling with his head tilt.

 

It just made Bruce blush deeper.

 

“I-I know!! I just-” he could feel the ears of Clark’s coworkers prick at his outburst, “-it felt… wrong? To let you go unpaid? I- I say that it’s our show of gratitude but, really, I- I um. I picked out the gift basket. And I brought some coffee. I thought, maybe if you aren’t busy, I could stay here a bit, strike up some conversation.” Momentarily, he tilted his head towards Lois. “I brought you some coffee, too, Miss Lane. I figured you’d appreciate a peace offering if I was gonna be stealing away your partner for the hour or at least interrupt your work day.”

 

For a second, Lois was almost disbelieving at the thought, but by god were those eyes so soft and and adorable. She physically couldn’t tell him that he couldn’t stay. 

 

In her head, she gave Clark her sorries.

 

“No problemo, Mister Wayne, I don’t mind. After all, what with you and Clark here being on a first name basis, I figure you don’t need my approval regardless.” A waggle of her eyebrows and both men were sent blushing, Bruce more deeper so, and from the side, a camera flash went off, followed up by a muffled “Cat!!” as if in reprimand. 

 

Suddenly, Clark realized he had yet to answer to Bruce, and he stuttered, “Oh! S-Sure, you can hang around. S-Sorry if I, uh, don’t give you my full attention, though I could use the relaxing distraction. I’ve been up to my neck in work, as of recent.”

 

A bright smile graced Bruce’s face and oh fuck- Lois was gonna gag from how sweet it was. Fuck her life if that wasn’t just ten camera flashes that went off, lord have mercy if she has to see it again. How was Clark even still alive?

 

Unfortunately, the moment was ruined by the roar of an older man.

 

“WHAT IS THIS OUT HERE!!” In an instant, reporters were sent scrambling back to their cubicles, some clutching their phones, mesmerized by the photo of Bruce’s smile spreading around the office like a wildfire. “KENT!! LANE!!” the editor screamed upon retracing the origin of the gathering. 

 

Once marching up to their cubicles, a flabbergasted Kent and grimacing Lois as greeting, he noticed the billionaire standing awkwardly to the side. Wide-eyed, he introduced himself, regaining his composure. “Mister Wayne! To what do we owe your presence today? I wasn’t aware that you’d be making a visit!”

 

Uncharacteristically flustered, he answered, “Hello, Mister White. I was just dropping by to thank one of your reporters- um- Mister Kent, here. He sort of… saved me? About a week ago.” He grew nervous. “Surely, you don’t mind me staying to talk with him about some things, Mister White? I know you prefer professionalism in your office-” someone in the background snorted, “-and detest distractions, so…”   
  


Without missing a beat, Perry was up in smiles again, exclaiming loud enough for practically the entire floor to hear, “No, no! I don’t mind! Stay as long as you’d like, Mister Wayne. And Kent, I sure do hope to hear about this rescue of yours later.” A forced grin from Clark and a wink from Perry later, the editor was sent fleeing back to his own office, an awfully happy and mischievous gait to his walk noticeable from every angle observed by surrounding reporters.

 

Once the man was gone, Clark turned back to Bruce, a legitimate smile gracing his face as he asked, “So. Let’s get on with the talking?”

 

^(OvO)^ 

 

Several hours of multitasking between speaking excitedly with Bruce and working on his piece later, Bruce’s phone began went off with Dick’s ringtone.

 

“Yeah?” Bruce said into the phone, answering the call.

 

“Bruce? Where are you? You’ve been gone all day, we called the office to remind your secretary to make sure you were eating and she said you weren’t there.” Hearing the worry in his son’s voice, Bruce reassured him. “I’m fine, Dick, I’m over at Metropolis.”

 

“Metropolis? What for?”   
  


“It was a last minute decision, don’t interrogate me about it, Dick. I just-”

 

In the background, he heard Tim’s excited yell of “HE’S AT THE DAILY PLANET”, faint, but noticeable. Immediately, he grew flustered. “TIMOTHY DRAKE-WAYNE!! What have I SAID about tracking people!!”

 

A faint sorry and Dick was back to the phone. “Look, Bruce, we’re just worried. You hadn’t called all day and all of a sudden, we find out you aren’t even at work.” Immediately, Bruce felt the guilt rising in his gut, but the sorry he was about to deliver was preceded by Dick’s words. “Don’t apologize, Bruce, we understand that you’re a grown man and you don’t need your overbearing children watching over you twenty four seven, we just wanted to make sure we knew where you were. You had all of us a tad bit worried is all when we found that you’d wandered off without explanation.”

 

From beside Bruce, while Dick spoke, Clark rolled his seat back and pointed over at his computer and back down the office with his thumb quickly, indicating to Bruce that he was going to go over to pick up some papers he needed printing. Bruce nodded and got back to Dick simultaneously. “Thanks, Dick, but I still think I owe you all a sorry.” Glancing out towards the faraway windows of the crowded office, Bruce talked back into the phone. “I think I’ll be back later tonight. Tell Alfred that I’ll be back before dinner, will you?”

 

A relieved “yeah” and a goodbye later and Bruce was tucking his phone back into his pocket, swiveling in his seat to wait for Clark to get back. From the cubicle across, though, he found another conversational partner.

 

“So… you’re crushing on Clark, I assume?”

 

If Bruce still had coffee to drink, he’d have either choked on it or spat it out. “W-Wha-! I have no idea what you’re talking about!!” Bruce exclaimed resolutely at the smirking Lois Lane.

 

“You can’t fool me, Wayne, and don’t worry, I’ll keep it a secret.” She winked. “Don’t deny it, even you find Smallville over there charming.”

 

Arms crossed and pink-dusted cheeks puffed with air, Bruce turned his eyes elsewhere to avoid Lois’s knowing look, prompting a chuckle from the reporter. “M-Maybe.”

 

As much as he hated to admit it, she was right. Following the days of Clark’s heroics, the man was all Bruce had had on his mind. Maybe it was the idealism and righteousness in the man’s work or perhaps it was he himself, but Bruce was… more than just caught up on him. 

 

“He told me about what happened, y’know?” Lois called back his attention. Bruce nodded expectantly.

 

“I- maybe it was… that? I don’t know how to put it into words but…”

 

Lois hummed like she related. “He wasn’t obligated to help you, and yet, he went out of his way to save your life and wanted nothing in return. You’re confused by him, and yet, it’s just lured you even deeper.”

 

Bruce snapped his fingers. “Yes. Exactly that.” That, and, not to mention, Clark was rather… dashing. In his own way, Bruce found him handsome and… brave. He doesn’t know why Clark chose to save him and rather thought that he didn’t deserve the saving. If anything, he’d have expected anyone to just leave him passed out that day, or steal from him or hold him for ransom. He was Bruce Wayne, after all. Richer than God, billionaire playboy philanthropist. One of the supposedly sexiest men alive. Why Clark would save him of all things and then ask for nothing in return befuddled him, especially following the fallout with the Man of Steel. Mayhaps he was just playing victim, but the alien painted him so horribly; he took a hard hit, but here Kent was, saving him and welcoming him like a friend without a second thought. It was…

 

“Shit, he’s coming back.” Lois’s whisper brought him out of his thoughtful daze and, a few seconds later, Clark was back in his seat, red pen in hand to start editing his draft and talking a mile a minute. In his own chair, Bruce took in the scene and let himself have a little smile in lieu of the developing events. Soon thereafter, he was roped back into conversation with Clark.

 

^(OvO)^

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t make any drastic changes to this chapter before I decided to upload it so I still hope yall enjoy. I looked thru it and whatnot and found it decent so I left it mostly at that. The next chapter will… embody… a sense of a different style, though. As I mentioned before, I prewrote five chapters for this fic, this being the fifth, and I was kinda burnt out while doing so. Also, I’m not well versed in angst and domestic writing so they’d been difficult and fast paced when I personally read them. There’s not much to telling you this besides that the extent to which I’d been using my effort for this fic thus far is gonna shift starting with the next chapter. 
> 
> I think what I did wrong, especially, is prewrite, well, FIVE CHAPTERS. When I started, I had it set in mind that I’d write five chapters and there were specific portions of my original plot that I’d thought to incorporate when writing them so I either unnecessarily stretched out information or forced scenes to be longer and it made for a story pace that was too quick for me to enjoy now that I think about it. With that, I hope yall will find the upcoming chapters more filling and detailed with a lot more insight and imagery than I originally had written with. I can’t promise that I’ll be consistent, though, because I go back to school in less than a week and a half on top of having a shit ton of hw on a regular basis, hobbies, piano practice, and, hopefully, track and field soon. In short, my time will be more or less occupied. Regardless, I hope you find/found this reading and the following few pleasurable, and good day to you all.
> 
> EXTRA NOTE : Do not walk away yet if you wanna see how shit's going for Clark. I know I rushed him into the story with past couple of chapters, but you will get what you want soon :) I promise.


	6. Fanning the Flames

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I started writing this fic, I had a vague plot I’d typed out at 5AM, shoved into the depths of my tumblr drafts. As of now, it’s still very vague and I don’t really have anything solid except for specific important occasions, though, I’ve been thinking. My fourth quarter essay for my english class is gonna be a narrative piece so, while I still can, I’m gonna use this fic as practice… and drag it out as long as physically possible. I’m also gonna try and make it angstier and extend the character focus beyond just Bruce and Clark cause when I read it over, I really get this… suffocating feeling. Like my vision is limited to only unchanging scenery, and I dislike it. Maybe gonna spice things up with some CRIME. Anyways, I think most of you would guess that I’m gonna eventually reveal Clark as Superman, but I don’t know how I’m gonna do that yet. I ain’t gonna drop the thing right after I show it, though, I actually have a vague plan for that as well. Hope yall enjoy it tho. Seeya in the long run.

^(OvO)^

 

“How long?”

 

Clark spared a glance at his coworker who now leaned against the back of her chair, peering over into his cubicle as he typed furiously to get out his newest exposé on internal conflict occurring overseas. “How long what?”

 

Irritably, Lois sighed, rolling her eyes and laying her head on her arms atop the chair. “You know what I’m asking. How long are you going to hide  _ it _ from him?”

 

Silence met her question. Exasperated, she sighed again. “God dammit, Clark-!”

 

“I don’t know, Lois!” Clark snapped. “I- I don’t know. You know I can’t just… tell him outright.”

 

Lois thought she was gonna border a migraine soon enough from just this small interaction. “But you’re gonna have to tell him some day.” Again, she got no answer. “Clark, honey…,” Lois turned back to her own cubicle, relishing the brief moment of reprieve from her work, “he’s your soulmate. Hell, he’s crushing on you  _ unwittingly _ , it’s gonna be inevitable. A gut feeling tells me yesterday won’t be the last time you’ll see him, Clark. He’s gonna have to know one day.”

 

Amidst the crowded, bustling office, Lois could hear the intense clacking on Clark’s part slow to an eventual crawl that told of deep thinking.

 

“He doesn’t have to know,” Clark muttered, and Lois was about to blow a fuse. Before she could, though, Clark shot back, “Lois! I just- I- I made a- a stupid mistake. When we met. I… the pain I dealt him can’t be fixed with a confession and a couple of sorries.”

 

Leaning over her armrest, Lois rested her hand on his shoulder, looking into his averted eyes with a concerned expression of her own. “I know, Smallville, but it’s better to confess now than later. Trust me when I say that it’s gonna build, and soon, you’ll have a snowball of lies and once he unravels its entirety, it’s gonna leave a bigger mess than if you confessed now. What will you do when he asks you about your soulmate? Assuming that you won’t leave Bruce heartbroken again, and you take things further, how will you deal with him seeing your soulmate tattoo, you know, the one that shares the same words with Superman even though he doesn’t have Clark Kent’s first words to him tattooed across his heart?” She drawled out that last question with a captain obvious tone. Still, though, Clark kept his eyes on anything but Lois, his slow clacks growing again to a quick speed that held sorrow in each keystroke meant to distract him.

 

A long silence that refused to cave ensued. For a moment, Lois thought of giving up her conquest and returning to her own duties, but rather chose to sit and mull over a decision. It’d be rash and hurtful, but Clark could be more stubborn than one might initially make him out to be; occasionally, he needed a push. She knew her best friend was regretting his decisions and in turn, avoided their consequences. He would never take it upon himself to change things if he had the choice. So, quiet enough that no one else could hear it, Lois whispered. “You’re a cruel man, Superman,” and Clark’s eyes suddenly snapped up to meet her steely ones, the Kryptonian’s rapidly darkening with anger. “Here I thought the All-American hero had a heart of gold.” Pausing, Lois strengthened her resolve to ground out words she knew would hit Clark where they’d hurt. “You’re not the savior that I know. The Superman I’ve grown to know over the years would never hurt someone the way you have.”

 

A lot or not, those last few words did it for Clark and he was soon baring his teeth at her, eyes watering and throat closing up on him while he croaked out a soft, “Shut up, Lo.”

 

When his coworker made no response back, Clark pushed on. “Don’t use that against me,” he whispered, the air between them stiff. For a moment, Lois thought she could see a glint of red in his eyes, but she chose to choke the fear and keep face. “I can’t be  _ perfect  _ like so many people want me to be. I might be an alien but I grew up with  _ humans; _  I’m no God. Don’t make me out to be one and don’t you  _ ever  _ use that against me again.” Coincidentally emphasizing his point, a pen Clark grabbed for later revisioning snapped in half, ink blotting his front and hand as he startled momentarily, broken from the cloudy rage that fogged his mind just seconds earlier.

 

With sad eyes, Lois continued to stare over at Clark.

 

Ashamed for his anger, it seemed, he stood, hands shaky at the loss of control and stuttered out a sorry when his chair bumped an irritated coworker’s who was too concentrated on their own work to have heard his and Lois’s argument. With that, he wiped at the ink, smearing it on his suit, and then seemed to choke up with bottled rage and frustration before regaining his composure, guilt painting his visage before he headed towards the bathrooms.

 

Still seated, Lois watched him depart. Bless Wayne’s sweet heart, as Ma Kent might put it. “Bless him indeed,” her own soft whisper echoed, and, swiveling her chair, she went back to work. The rest of that day, neither of the two reporters spoke to one another, nor made an effort to interact. While one could correctly guess them to be drowning in their own cauldrons of anger, they’d be oblivious to the deep hollows beneath the layers of tense, boiling rage; a sea of pity and shame at the actions they took to push one another fueling their fires.

 

^(OvO)^

 

“Clark...! CLARK!!”

 

The yell so fierce it left some with ringing ears snapped Superman out of his daze, bringing him from the regretful memories. Embarrassed, his eyes shot around the room, letting him ground himself back into reality. “Uh-”   
  


“What has been the matter with you lately? You’re spacing out left and right, even on missions! Will we have to remind you that your actions and deviating could potentially be detrimental to an objective?!” Wonder Woman’s reprimand had Clark scarlet with shame in that he knew she spoke the truth, though, he’d also been called out in front of core members and junior justice league members in the meeting room. Said room consisted of high ceilings, crystals flickering with light as it was contained in a structure similar to the fortress; constructed with kryptonian technology and other devices combind, it met the leagues’ crime fighting needs. 

 

“I- Um- Can I say after this meeting? Diana?”

 

“This is ‘after this meeting’. We’ve just finished.” 

 

A snort of laughter and a muffled guffaw came from the junior end of the table. 

 

A quick glare from Diana shut them up.

 

“Well?” she inquired, turning back to Clark, and from there he knew there was no escaping his best friend’s questioning.

 

“‘S soulmate stuff…,” Clark muttered softly, enough for only anyone with super hearing to catch it. With raised eyebrows and a growing smirk, Diana asked him to repeat that again with a more confident face. “It’s soulmate stuff,” he reluctantly echoed, louder this time.

 

For several seconds, the immediate reaction was silent gawks and gaping mouths. Then the barrage came.

 

“You found out who your soulmate is?”

 

“Who is your soulmate?!”

 

“How’d you two meet? OH! DO THEY KNOW YOU’RE SUPERMAN?!”

 

More and more, the questions came forth, unrelenting. Eventually, they ran out of innocent questions and Oliver had to put a quick stop to them. “Woah, woah, woah, hold your damn horses, christ-”

 

In the expecting quiet, Clark blurted out, “It’s Bruce Wayne.” An unwise decision, but he trusted the team.

 

Suddenly, the roar of questions came again, thrice as loud this time, actually. The general question, though, was “BRUCE FUCKING WAYNE?!?” as if he’d stuttered.

 

At some point, Dinah had teased, “Well that explains all the thinking,” with a waggle of the brows and resounding “ooh”’s and laughter came about the table, making Clark the reddest he thought he could possibly get. “It’s not that!!” he shouted.

 

“Okay, but now it’s stuck in your head, isn’t it?”

 

They were right. It was.

 

In seconds, he was a blustering mess, words askew and tongue stumbling over itself while he brought his hands red from clenching up to his face to try and save his dignity.

 

^(OvO)^

 

After some chatter, members eventually began departing, the energetic and curious atmosphere dissipating with goodbyes. As was protocol, core members stayed behind to organize matters but, eventually, they began leaving too, and soon enough, Clark and Diana were the last of them left, Clark dwelling on a disappointed look that J’onn shot him on his way out. He’ll have to talk to him about mental privacy later.

 

“Clark?” Diana called, walking up to the very man who leaned against the meeting table in thought. “Yeah, Di?” he replied customarily.

 

She gave quick apologies but, as always, she didn’t beat around the bush. “I know we made lots of jokes and poked fun back there, but really; what been on your mind?” He wanted to lie. To avoid the conversation. He knew he couldn’t lie, though. Those sharp, icy eyes would catch any give, and even if he tried to, there always was the Lasso of Truth. On the other hand, Diana was determined and persistent, always seeking that her friends were at their best and doing well. If he didn’t answer now, he’d be answering a worried Diana later, and with more to vent.

 

He sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it, Di. I already had this talk with Lois and- let’s just say it got really ugly.” Still, she didn’t let up, staring him and his furrowed eyebrows down till he caved. “I- I made a mistake, Di.”

 

A silence. Then, “How bad of a mistake was it?”

 

“That’s the thing,” Clark answered, “it was… it was a really bad mistake. One might even say I- um, excuse my profanity, but, one might even say I… fucked up.” He had to take a seat if he was gonna go through this talk again.

 

Still standing, Diana crossed her muscled arms and tilted her head down towards him as she continued to help talk through her best friend’s problems. “That bad?”

 

A nod. “Yeah… he… Bruce got hurt. Because of me.” When he heard nothing in response, he continued speaking. “I want to- I want to say that I- I was just… scared? Of the pain that having a soulmate would bring? To… to have someone that fit you like a piece of a puzzle out there and- and the possibility that you could lose them anyday,” Clark swallowed, suddenly finding it hard to get the words past his throat and out into the open, “I… I think I panicked but there’s no way I could use that to justify walking away from him when I knew he was heartbroken. If I tried, I wouldn’t know how I could live with myself.” The last sentence came out as a broken whisper, and Clark knew that he had no right to complain about the hurt all this brought.

 

Beside him, Diana pulled out the seat behind her and sat down, hand soon coming down on Clark’s slumped shoulder in a sickening mimic of what Lois had done when she attempted to counsel him days before. “Clark. Listen. I have no place to make decisions regarding your romantic life, but I think getting back into touch with Wayne and trying to make up for it would do you some good. I will have to apologize with this vague advice; the path of a warrior isn’t always graced with domesticity and… time.” The last word was spat out with a sorrow implication that Clark understood.

 

But Clark still sighed in the face of the advice. “You don’t get it, Di.”

 

“What don’t I get, Kal?” His Kryptonian name. Diana only ever used it if she wanted him to feel less alone… Closer in a familial sense, perhaps.

 

“This whole,” he gesticulated at random for a moment, looking for the right word, “mess? I can’t fix it. Not anymore. I… I’ve been in contact with Bruce… as Clark Kent. Diana, he trusts Clark Kent. I- Lois and I,” he flinched at mentioning the name, “we’ve… noted that he might have already fallen in love… with the human. Another facet of the real me. A lie on top of a truth.” He paused. “When I could first read my tattoo, I was overjoyed. I had somebody, and that fact stayed with me all throughout my life until I found out who exactly I was destined to be with. Diana,” Clark swallowed again and looked into his best friend’s eyes, noting the the parting in her lips that spoke of her concern, “I- I met him at- at a Gala. And I fucked up. I told him that we couldn’t be destined to be together. Not as the people that we are… No. I told him exactly this; ‘I can’t be seen with someone like  _ you’ _ .  _ I  _ told him that.  _ Me. Superman _ . The Man of Steel with a  _ heart of gold _ .” He scoffed at his own angrily spat words, an echo of Lois’s hurtful ones.

 

Eyes towards the ceiling to avoid Diana’s, he combed his fingers through his ruffled hair. “I held my bias for years and it’s cost me my wish to not be alone in this universe. It’s cost me the other piece of my puzzle, romantic or platonic.” He looked back down to Diana, eyes watery. “When I first looked him up, Di? He was a mess. He was a mess because a man was selfish enough to rob our world of some of the two, most amazing people that a child could have had as parents and traumatized a little boy into growing up quicker than he had any right to. The innocence and happiness of a child; the cost they willingly exchanged for some quick cash and a set of pearls.” With every word tumbling out of his mouth, his voice became more broken, self-deprecating laughs slipping between syllables and phrases. “And I? I ignored that. I should have been determined to be with him, to help him become happy even in the follow up of bleak times. Instead, I was  _ disgusted _ , ashamed to have been destined to be with someone who I judged for  _ hurting  _ and I was afraid of what that meant for me. For both my future and my own character.”

 

In the comforting silence given by Diana, Clark let go and his face became flushed with shame and guilt, cheeks wet with salty tears. “And did you know? He’s been… bettering himself. I’ve read up on articles from recent years and he really has been making the effort to do good after he adopted his first kid. It hurts me to be put into a situation under my own fault, but what of him, Di? How must it have felt being so innocent, and yet, still being shit on by whatever godly forces exist? How many scars did my words leave, knowing that, even though he’s been doing good- no, doing so much better and becoming someone any good parent would be... proud of,” Clark took a gulp of air, trying to right the jumbled words and his next ones coming out heartachingly soft with uncertainty. “How must it feel for him to know that, in the end, even fate didn’t favor him?”

 

Momentarily, Diana stared at him with a sympathetic look before she stood from her seat and came back with a box of tissues and a water bottle from a separate table with items reserved for long meetings. Clark wiped at his eyes with his sleeve. “I- I’m sorry, Di. I’ve been rambling,” he muttered, taking a tissue and cleaning his face, cranium pounding with the telltale signs of a headache. She waved knowingly to dismiss the unnecessary apologies. Clark had a lot more going for him and she, too, understood the pressure of being idolized by so many. “It’s fine, Kal; continue,” she assured after he’d gotten a relieving drink of water. Still, he kept silent for a bit, trying to get his reign on his words again.

 

When he grounded himself again, his whisper was soft and full of hurt. “What have I done, Diana? Almost two weeks ago, Bruce passed out in an alleyway after severe malnourishment and lack of sleep got to him. That on top of stress from work. I want to solely blame the work because I’ve experienced times where, had I not been Kryptonian, my workload would have crushed me physically and mentally, but I know it wasn’t just that. I know he was having problems from the incident and I know that because I was… I was watching him.” He said his apologies, continuing, “After the Gala, I talked with Lois and… she told me I should give Wayne a second chance, telling me that while I wasn’t all too affected by rejecting him, I should consider how he must have felt, getting his other half ripped away from him so cruelly and knowing they were still out there… My own coworker was more up to date on Wayne’s progress over time than little ole’ me, his soulmate… Anyways, I hadn’t taken on the suggestion immediately after but people began noticing something was wrong.” Clark took another swig at his bottle of water. “They were right, so… I started keeping tabs on him and three weeks fly and the next thing I knew, he was vomiting in an alley, seconds away from cracking his skull open on the cement. I was seconds away from losing one of, if not the only person out there in the universe whose destined by deities to be the one who’d understand me the most, or, hopefully, fit me the best. It was so close a call… I got… I got scared, Di… I was scared...”

 

“If I had the guts to tell Ma and Pa about this whole fiasco, I’m willing to bet they’d be disappointed… And his kids… god, they’re angels, Di! They love their father so much and I don’t have the guts to fucking tell them that  _ I’m  _ the one who hurt their beloved dad. I can see it when he talks to or about them, too. Bruce loves his children with all the love he had left over from his parents and more. I know it, and really, what kind of sick person am I to so confidently tear down the happiness of a man like that? A man who, by all means, deserves any, or perhaps, all good that can come out of life?” Clark laughed humorlessly once more and then went quiet against the table, awaiting Diana’s judgement and the passing of the shock from his uncharacteristic swearing.

 

It was quiet for a long time, so much so that if it weren’t for her heartbeat going strong in his ears, he’d have believed she’d left. When the hammer fell, her answer came. She, again, placed her hand against on him, though it was his back this time, as a comforting gesture.

 

“Kal… You’re a good man. I hope you know that. While what you’ve done has dealt severe repercussions, you should know that it doesn’t make you as bad as you paint yourself to be. I could defend you in that it’s Wayne’s own fault he’s been portrayed badly by the media, but the cause for his behavior is not a fault he should burden, and one would have quite the audacity to accuse him of being the villain here.” She paused to string along the right terms in her head, to find the ones that’d get her point across clearly and efficiently. 

 

“Everything that’s gone down was a mistake, and that’s all it’ll be, Kal. You need to remember that. And as is with the majority of mistakes, one can always either fix them or learn from them. I think Miss Lane’s intuition serves her well. You’ll do best to make things up with your beloved before it’s too late. From here on, it’d only get worse, especially if Wayne has already become affiliated with your civilian identity. I hope you can consider the damning effects if he’d figured out how to escape a web of lies as big as this one.”

 

At the metaphor, Clark couldn’t help but laugh. “Y’know, Di, Lois said something along the same lines, too. I should confess now before I have a snowball effect so big that it’d be a mess once Bruce could break it apart.” Diana hummed, well acquainted with Lane’s intellect and compelling writing. Another calm silence ensued. “I should apologize to her,” Clark muttered out of the blue, eyes finally coming down from their redness and the puffy eyebags being the only indication that he was crying. “She was just suggesting what she felt would be best for me and it’s not like I wasn’t the one who reached out to her when things first came down, anyways.” Again, Diana only made to agree with his decision.

 

Following that, the room went quiet for a long time. When Clark’s ears perked up at the sound of an ongoing robbery in Metropolis, though, he finally stood, exhaling in relief from the chance to vent. “Thank you… for the chance to talk, Diana,” he acknowledged as she, too, stood to leave.

 

“My pleasure, Kal,” with a nod was her response. When Clark made for the door, though, she called out again in suggestion. “Do not forget; you should confess to Bruce and clear up anything between the two of you before things get out of hand.”

 

Clark hummed as if to say yes. “I will, Di. Just… not today. I’ll do it as soon as possible, when it feels right. Goodbye.”   
  
He walked out the door and in the wake of his departure, Diana muttered, “Just hope that the right time comes soon, then, my friend.”

 

^(OvO)^

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I started writing this fic, I had a vague plot I’d typed out at 5AM, shoved into the depths of my tumblr drafts. As of now, it’s still very vague and I don’t really have anything solid except for specific important occasions, though, I’ve been thinking. My fourth quarter essay for my english class is gonna be a narrative piece so, while I still can, I’m gonna use this fic as practice… and drag it out as long as physically possible. I’m also gonna try and make it angstier and extend the character focus beyond just Bruce and Clark cause when I read it over, I really get this… suffocating feeling. Like my vision is limited to only unchanging scenery, and I dislike it. Maybe gonna spice things up with some CRIME. Anyways, I think most of you would guess that I’m gonna eventually reveal Clark as Superman, but I don’t know how I’m gonna do that yet. I ain’t gonna drop the thing right after I show it, though, I actually have a vague plan for that as well. Hope yall enjoy it tho. Seeya in the long run.


End file.
